


Insult to Injury

by basaltgrrl



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-29
Updated: 2010-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-15 10:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basaltgrrl/pseuds/basaltgrrl





	Insult to Injury

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**Insult to Injury**   
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Sam and Gene had fallen into routines in which they managed to coexist peacefully in ways that Sam had never imagined were possible.  The use of the bathroom, for instance.  They had both gotten over any squeamishness about witnessing the other taking care of bodily functions within the first few days – not that it made any sense to be squeamish, given the activities they were engaging in while in other rooms of the house.  So it was not odd to find Sam on the toilet as Gene shaved, or vice-versa.  Or one stepping into the shower as the other stepped out.  On this particular morning it was the first case.

“I’m bleeding,” Sam hissed in a startled tone.

“Yer on the rag again, Gladys?” Gene threw out casually as he stroked the razor under his chin.

Sam blushed.  “You can’t take this seriously?  I’m bleeding!”

“Thought you didn’t have them parts.”

“No, you gigantic arse.  I’m bleeding from my jacksie, as you would so elegantly put it.  Which means no more buggering for me and you until I heal up.  Just wanted you to know that you’ll have to restrain your monstrous appetites.”

Gene shot him a look.    “If you think I can’t restrain myself, you’ve got another think comin’.  I can cease and desist if I want to.”  He splashed some water from the sink over his neck, toweled off and gave Sam a more serious look.  “That normal?”

“Normal human response to prolonged ‘aggressive male affection’, I reckon.”

“But—we used Vaseline.”  Gene actually looked a little lost, a little sorry.

“Sometimes no amount of Vaseline will make up for the sheer amount of friction.  Oh hell, I’m just upset.  Never mind.”

“So you are on the rag.  Such a bleedin’ girl.  No pun intended.”

Sam bit his lip.  “Bastard.”

“How bad is it?  Are you goin’ to survive or will you need a transfusion?”

“I’ll let you know if I get lightheaded.”

“Do you need me to kiss it and make it better?”

“Would you get fucking serious about this?”

“We’ll need a code word.  For at work, like.”

“You’re joking me.”

“The Gene Genie never jokes about male menstruation, my friend.”  He stroked his freshly shaved chin for a moment, then announced, “If this becomes a problem, just tell me that yer sister is wearing her red dress to the ball.”

“Yeah, that sounds completely natural and like something that would come up in conversation in CID.”  Sam tried to invest his tone with every last iota of sarcasm.

“You will never know all the code words that have been used in CID.”

“I really don’t want to know.”

“Well that’s good then.”  Gene gave his face a light slap of aftershave and knocked Sam’s knee with his own.  “Piss or get off.  Finish up then, there’s a good girl, and we can get to work.  If you’re capable in the state you’re in.”

Sam gave him one last glare and finished up.  “You really have no heart.  No empathy at all.  I have no idea how I manage to put up with you.”

“If yer sounded any more like my missus I would buy you flowers on my way home.”  Gene’s words were casual, but the look he gave Sam as they traded places wasn’t; it seemed to say all the words that had not come out of their mouths during the last ten minutes.

“Flowers and a bottle of Glenlivet,” Sam muttered, turning for the door.

“Done.”

  
  


 

 

 


End file.
